Subway Diaries

I have never felt 100% comfortable on the Subway, a cool casual New Yorker who can go body to body with the throngs of society like its NBD.  Then again my Subway experiences haven't exactly been a bed of English roses.  The homeless man that spends his days at the 52nd Street stop of the E Train tells me every time I walk by that women belong in the kitchen not in the workplace (he also has strong feelings against tall people, lesbians, and red heads).  Additionally, I was on a train last year in which a man told me that sometimes you must kill people to make peace.  At which point all other passengers looked on as if he had asked me the weather and I had to hop off at the wrong stop and run out of Grand Central as if my pants were on fire.  Clearly when it comes to fight or flight - I'm a flight.  Today, I grabbed the M train and was lucky enough to find myself a seat during rush hour.  Shortly after, a rather intimidating fellow sat down next to me with no hint of a smile and three perfectly tattooed tear drops underneath his right eye.  How sweet.  The perfectly painted drops were a stark contrast to his hard jawline and beady eyes so I moved a few inches to the left and decided to concentrate on my US Weekly instead of his disarming but cute tattoo.  It wasn't until later that I verified the unsettled feeling in my stomach with the following Google research:

'The teardrop tattoo or tear tattoo is a symbolic tattoo that is placed underneath the eye....The meaning was that the wearer had killed someone...It is also often used in prison to warn other convicts that the wearer has killed.'

Consider me warned.  Most Wiki answers state that open tear drops could mean that the gang member is just mourning a loss of a brother or dear friend, my subway neighbor's tears were generously colored in.  Great, one tear drop for each crime.  They should really consider changing it up so the symbols are a little more of a red flag for the rest of the unassuming community.  How about tattooing 'I am a Hardened Criminal', this way we have no mixed messages - OK?

Pop Art, you Pop Tarts

I had big plans for Sunday this weekend.  My parents were coming into town and I was going to show them the wonderful world of art that I know very little about on a trip to gallery row in Chelsea.  When we arrived at said destination we found that no galleries are open on Sundays, which showed my true colors of not being tapped into the intriguing art world of New York.  However, we made the best of it and took our sweet precious time in the one gallery that was open and showcasing a pop art exhibit.  See below for a choice piece:

Is it so bad that I would rather be Mark Zuckerberg than Kublai Khan?  Hats off to the Mongols but the sight of blood makes me nauseous, and I have never been very fond of horse back riding. 

Snow Day!

January is usually the month that flies by as you get adjusted to life resuming normalcy after the holidays.  Its a blip on the winter radar - a month less appreciated and less celebrated albeit the occasional birthday.  Clearly, January is getting pissed off about being second best to February (Valentines Day!), March (Spring!) and all of the other noteworthy months in the calendar year.  So, January has decided to show us whose boss by setting the record this year as the snowiest month in New York history, beating out the apparently very snowy year of 1925.  Since the Ford Model T most likely did not have snow tires, I'm sure it was an entirely different type of struggle, but these three and a half weeks have been like the Lord of the Flies of public transportation.  While the children of the Tri-State area have been whooping it up on snow days, we have been fighting subway delays, barely escaping hand to hand combat over lone cabs, and trudging through the slush in our ten pound galoshes that could throw your back out with one leg cross.  And while the first flake may have been cute, I am just about ready to slap the next snowflake I see in the face. 

In an effort to ease apparent tensions and escape house arrest, my girlfriends and I decided to treat ourselves to a spa day.  This is the adult version of a snow day and we quickly rationalized that we very much deserved it.  It might not be as exhilarating as watching the news and seeing your schools name flash across the screen as cancelled, but its the next best thing!

(P.S. - at the Setai Club & Spa downtown for the price of a massage you can stay all afternoon and steam, sauna, hot tub, and enjoy tea and unlimited champagne in the lounge.  Steal of a deal!)

RDV

The elusive lounge in New York is a safe haven from the gelled hair often seen at clubs, and the drink spillage and shoe wreckage that occurs at the neighborhood bars.   Saturday night we went to lounge RDV, which stands for Rendez-Vous (because every cool place needs an indecipherable acronym in this city).  The bar is beneath the notorious Bagatelle, known for its wild brunches that in broad day light showcase dancing on banquettes, cutout mini dresses at 11AM, and Europeans smoking cigs outside.  If you happen to pass by on a Saturday with your hair in a ponytail in your UGG boots, its awkward.  Neither here nor there, a much simpler and more inviting scene awaits down below - if you can find it.  The door is unmarked and impossibly confusing to find, but once inside you will find yourself in a space laden with plush couches and long stemmed candles.  Similar to the Back Room and Jane Hotel, there is a 1920s speakeasy feel and an ambiance that is perfect for taking refuge on a Saturday night in the middle of winter.  We chatted, danced, and had a great night, and at 1AM as it was just picking up...we left.  Sometimes its just as fun to go home early, crawl into bed for the end of Saturday Night Live, and call it a night.

LOL, TTYL, LYLAS, etc.

Technology is a beautiful thing but sometimes I feel like Ive missed the bus and I'm running up the street in midtown desperately trying to keep up.  I recently bought the iPhone 4, which I'm pretty sure is a smart phone but not a droid.  We have a flat screen TV which we never turn to HD because we didn't know we had it until two weeks ago even though the TV is one year old (Do I really need to watch Beverly Hills Housewives surgically enhanced lips in HD, probably not).   I was feeling pressure from Amazon to give in and get a Kindle but now there is a Nook and I don't know which way to turn.  When Netflix first came out I remember thinking, good luck random company Netflix, what a horrible idea.  Clearly no one should be looking to me for stock picks in this arena.  Goodbye dog-eared pages of my books, sandy from trips to the beach.  Goodbye trips to Blockbuster.  This is like a twisted version of Goodnight moon.  Goodbye to communication skills and human contact?  I sincerely hope not. 

I can only imagine how Mrs Johnson, my beloved sixth grade teacher, is faring through all of this.  She was a known stickler for grammar and  a notorious hunter of dangling modifiers.  I have a feeling she has not opted to go with the digital flow and is somewhere in Florida sticking her nose up at all of us.  R U OK Mrs. Johnson?!   I am very appreciative of the intensely anticipated grammar tests you gave us and I sincerely apologize on behalf of all of your students that there is no room for proper pronouns and prepositions in text speak.  I'm not sure what will take the place of these experiences, but I will gamely race to get my Kindle/Nook and I will read up on Google TV.  If you don't keep up with the highly technical Joneses you may be left behind.

Ciano

With a culinary team originating from Bouley and Cru and the prime location of the space once inhabited by Beppe (RIP), Ciano was destined to be a five star dinner for me.  Once Adam Platt from New York Magazine added Ciano to his list of Where to Eat 2011, I secured a resi before it became like Locanda Verde and ended up on my you will never be able to get a reservation except for lunch on Tuesdays list.  The ambiance at Ciano was a far cry from the slightly barren Beppe and had been completely redone with a rustic polished look that boasted a fire place (love, love a good fireplace in NYC).  Better yet, the food was everything I imagined with delicious creative Italian dishes and a great selection of half-bottle wines.  It felt like a Bouley or a Cru meal, but was completely Ciano in its simplistic preparation and much more affordable pricing.  I had the rainbow beets with whipped robiola wild watercress, and aged Balsamic, and the pasta with fennel sausage, broccoli rabe, plum tomato, and ricotta.  Cheese heaven!  Unfortunately, this apoplectic cheese ball also had to hit the town afterward in her skinny jeans which was quite the tight rope act, but so worth it.

Boom Boom

The nightclub business in New York City is a revolving door of black leather banquettes and autocratic doormen.  The delicate balance of hot new night spot and so last year is always at a tipping point.  This year, one of the most talked about clubs in the city is the lounge formerly known as the Boom Boom Room in the Standard Hotel.  This Andre Balazs hotel made headlines when it first opened for the floor to ceiling windows and reported bedroom antics in full view of pedestrians on the Highline down below.  As locals ambled down the West Side Highway men and women on the 6th, 11th, or 15th floors could be seen in their birthday suits in not quite PG-13 scenarios no matter the time of day.  Some say they were paid to appear to raise hype and awareness for the hotel - clearly a non-orthodox and cutting edge brand management philosophy.  Others simply chalked up the tabloid revelations to the excess and revelry that took place behind the glass facade of one of the hippest hotels in New York City.  If the room with the double beds on the 3rd floor was getting this much action, one could only imagine what happens behind the firmly shut doors of the top floor in the so-called Boom Boom Room. 

Hype eventually met reality when I found my way inside last weekend after a birthday dinner at The Standard Grill.  After passing what seemed like multiple security checkpoints and an awkward confrontation in the elevator where two bystanders did not make the cut to go upstairs, we found ourselves face to face with some of the most breathtaking panoramic views of New York City.  The entire bar was encased in windows overlooking Manhattan and the combination of height and startling landscape was almost vertigo-inducing.  Even the bathrooms were a box of windows complete with lone toilets hovering over the Hudson River - clearly this hotel is not big on privacy.  I think we may have been the last to leave, captured below in the barren 4AM snapshots.  We were clearly none the wiser and if you had asked me at the time I would have said it was a very happening scene.  Goes to show hype is really just that and all you really need is your favorite people and an empty dance floor.  Something to remember if you find yourself en route to the Boom Boom Room and end up not passing go to collect your 200 dollars, which in Boom Boom speak is getting pulled from the elevator by a burly doorman. 

 

Donkey of the Week

When there's already a Donkey of the Week and its only Tuesday, you know its a doozy.  Donkey of this Week is the 8 Ways Women can get ahead in the Workplace article that appeared on CNN yesterday.  Thanks to this thought piece, broads like us are now much better positioned to tackle difficult office conditions.  Take item #4 as an example, 'Don't ever, ever cry at work.'  The blurb beneath this caption says, 'To avoid a meltdown, Levit says women should take time outside of work to think of situations that make them upset and practice how to cope with them calmly.'  Sub text: Since women's temperatures run higher than men and hover at boiling point, at any time they can melt down and will lose all control over their emotions.  This is a real concern so women should practice not crying at home in front of the mirror while they do their chest exercises from the Judy Blume novels us gals are always reading. 

Item #8 admonishes,  'The way you look and talk matters.'  The groundbreaking blurb beneath this caption is that 'When women communicate, they should stick with simple but confident sentences.  The more words used, the softer the message sounds...women can also practice short speeches at home to help push their main ideas to the beginning.'  Subtext: women should spend more time at home practicing being like men and if they have time to come into the office after all of these late night tutorials in front of the mirror, they should only do so speaking like Tarzan and Jane.

Is this a study on training apes or a how-to guide for women in the 21st century?  Unclear.  I think we can add a 9th item to this list entitled 'Women should stop perpetuating poor corporate images of other women in the workplace'.  See that, I could have spent an extra 5 minutes doing my nightly exercises instead of reading this article and we would have all been better off!

New Years Resi's 2011

When I am climbing faux mountains in Soul Cycle and the instructor yells that 2011 is my year, I always like to believe them.  However, I also know that I am not the lucky type that will win the Mega Millions and fall into a life of peaceful fulfillment, so I will need to take 2011 by the proverbial horns.  In that vein I have decided to spruce up my usual New Years Resolutions of health and happiness with the following laundry list.  In 2011 I would like to...

1. Take advantage of more cultural events in New York City. 
2. Save more money.  My base salary has increased since I moved to this city, but I still live paycheck to paycheck, I just do so in cuter outfits.
3. Swap a trip to the beach for a trip to Europe.  I love nothing more than a Pina Colada and sunset hot-tubbing, but 2011 is a year for culture not freckles and a great tan.  Bonus - I will be more worldly and less prematurely wrinkled.
4. Read at least one book per month.  This is a freebie for me in case I do not achieve my other items on this list since I am in a Book Club that meets monthly.  
5. Exercise three times a week so I can be strong like Madonna 
6. Find out what the heck I want to be when I grow up 

Happy New Year!

We rang in the new year in Stratton, Vermont with less than snowy ski conditions and balmy 40 degree weather.  It felt like spring skiing, and we headed to the mountain without jackets, gloves, hats, and the donkey gear that usually makes skiing such a pain.  After a hard day on the slopes we hit the lodge for beers and nachos.  Well, technically I wasn't on the slopes, I was next to the slopes on the snow shoe trails nearby.  Details, details I just really like walking into the lodge and saying 'tough day on the slopes' to my fellow comrades, so I did.  For those less familiar with this action sport, snow shoeing is really just hiking in the snow and is actually quite a good workout.  The trails are even marked with green, blue, and black diamonds to denote difficulty.  What makes a snow shoe trail a black diamond is still unclear -  there were no moguls or jumps.  However, my friend, lets call her Lesley, did trip and fall over a concealed root as we mocked the difficulty rating system so I guess they can say they told us so. 

On New Years Eve proper we held a serious dance party back at the house, and I learned how to Dougie (which I think is just running your hands through your hair with a skip in your step).  What will my resolutions be this year?  I will have to tap into my inner Oprah for guidance on living my best life in 2011 to find out.  So far, I have mastered the Dougie.

Although, I'm sure the original Dougie was not done in plaid and fuzzy slippers...